


TFSummerExchange Fills

by SoDoLaFaMiDoRe



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:47:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7710382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe/pseuds/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here you go Merfilly, I hope you enjoy! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Prompt furfillment!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



Mornings in the ruins of the Ark tended to be quiet after a major battle. When it was clear everyone was going to survive their injuries, it came time to rest and recuperate. Wires were massaged, friends drank together and shared their stories of courage or mishaps on the battlefield. Insults and jokes flew like seekers, quick and scathing. It was all in good fun, a reminder they were still all alive and all together.

Ironhide and the rest of the crew of the Ark avoided the downer conversations, Who was still in the medbay, who had a near miss, how bad some of the wounded’s injuries had looked during their transport and triage in the medbay. Sunstreaker was still out cold after Starscream had knocked him off, and while Sideswipe acted as if it hadn’t worried him, the tight grip on his cube and haunted look told otherwise. Sunstreaker had been touch and go through the night, and while Ratchet was confident he’d recover fully, Sideswipe still wasn’t relieved.

Ironhide’s spark ached for the younger mech. Sure, their pranks made them both pains in his aft, and he’d had to escort them to the brig more often than any other Autobot on Earth, but they were good mechs deep down and they’d earned his respect. Getting up from his seat, Ironhide walked over towards Sideswipe and placed a gentle hand on the mech’s shoulder, the mech too tired to jump and fight him, instead just sagging under the friendly weight. Ironhide shot him a wan smile and took the seat next to Sideswipe, not removing his friendly touch.

\----

To say Ratchet was exhaumixture sted was the understatement of the orn. He was swaying on his feet, and even adding a highly-dubious of lovingly dubbed Hypercharge to his energon only helped him to make sure the patients were going to make it out of the woods. Wheeljack had come in early in the orn after working on his own repairs, took one look at Ratchet, and had called Swoop for backup as they forced Ratchet on an empty medberth to sleep. Swoop had taken over monitoring and cleaning the energon spots off the walls and floor. 

By the time Ratchet had awoken again, the Medbay was clean and Swoop was reading from one of the medical journal’s Ratchet kept in his office for reference. Checking on each of the patients and seeing they were fine, Ratchet let his plating relax a little. The door opened to let Wheeljack into the Medbay, carrying a cube and helm fins flashing in time with a small tune he was humming.

Ratchet took the cube gratefully, filling his tanks with small sips as he mentally planned out which stocks they were running low on and the general plans for the different patients after they were awaken from medical stasis. Sunstreaker would want to repaint the silver weld lines and get his polish back to its uniform glossy shine. Jazz would need to get some of the more finicky portions of is audial fins readjusted when he was awake, but that was a process they could wait on. Even with the relief of everyone being awake, Ratchet knew he would go through this again and again when the next battles struck, unless the war miraculously ended.

\----

Recovery from battles for the Seeker trine always meant working on themselves both physically and mentally. A neglected bond could be as  injurious  to a Seeker as a neglected physical injury, and the proper time had to be allocated for caring and recuperating. Napping together to allow their self-repair time to heal minor dents and bruises was one of the best ways for the trine to sync together and stabilize their sparks against one another. Information was disseminated and argued in dreams, and it was always a good way to mentally ground one another against potential nightmares. It was harder to have a nightmare of losing your trinemates if they were both there mentally assuring you they were fine.

Thundercracker was most often the one who needed to be reassured they were still whole and together, even if he was still surly about it in the morning. Skywarp, for his annoying tendencies of flicking his wings in his sleep, was slightly smaller than both Starscream and Thundercracker, and therefore took the middle. Their sparkbond had grown so close over the years, even if the 4 million years spent in stasis had taken its toll on all of them, they could easily operate as tightly-knit as Devastator when their egos didn’t get in the way. And it was a sight to behold when the trine was together.

They had nearly been successful in bringing down one of the Autobot’s hellion gladiator twins and offlining him permanently, if his brother hadn’t gotten involved. The amount of energon staining the earth and seeping into the sand looked unsurvivable, and a significant portion of Sunstreaker’s insides had become his outsides. Starscream fervently hoped they had been successful, if they could take both twins out of commission it would hopefully put an end to that pain in the aft Jet Judo they favored. 

\----

Elita One and Chromia were carrying out their own missions, contact with the lost-and-found crew of the Ark 1 scarce due to the heavy monitoring Shockwave held over Cybertron. Most of their raids were successful with minimal casualties, due to the millions of years the small cell had spent honing their skills, but each femme knew they needed to keep their guard up, Intensive medical care was barely there to the point of being considered nonexistent, and capture would mean death or torture as one of his many experiments.

While the raid for supplies had been successful, Chromia was currently deafened in one auditory sensor due to a well-placed shot by a drone. None of the group had the medical equipment or training to be able to fix the problem, besides sealing it off to prevent a potential rust infection. Elita sighed as she looked at her squadmate, who had finally been able to dull the right pain sensors and get some recharge. Even though Chromia was one of the stronger Autobots on the team, even she couldn’t resist showing the pain on her face as the wound was sealed off. Things were dangerous, they always had been in war, and who knew what the future would hold in store for cybertronians in both factions.


	2. Prompt 2!

Caring for the cassetticons in the middle of a war had been taking its toll on Soundwave. The evil autobots had appeared to have no morals or code to follow besides bloodlust. They killed indiscriminately and only took prisoners to torture them or commit fiendish experiments on them. Even letting the cassetticons out of his chest was starting to give Sir Soundwave a sick dread in his ember. If anything happened to his underlings, he’d never be able to forgive himself. 

Starscream’s trine had helped where they could, providing aerial support and updating Soundwave on troop positions to keep him abreast of any battles. Ravage attempted to keep the Yatter updates to a minimum, even if he couldn’t always stop himself from checking in for points.

What scared Soundwave most was the danger the twins were in. Due to their small size, they were able to run and crawl into spaces inaccessible to Lazerbeak and Ravage. This often sent them deep into Autobot territory, and Soundwave could never truly relax until they were fully docked again. 

Encountering Sideswipe, one of the terror twins that wreaked havoc among the Decepticon’s units, was one of the last things Soundwave had needed. The terror had just given-him a primus-forsaken grin promising blood before attacking. Soundwave wasn’t shoddy himself, even if he preferred not to fight, and attempted to give the mech the slip so he could find a new location and hide 

Ravage had made himself a distraction with his claws and chatterbox ways, giving Soundwave time to find an abandoned gas station, transform into his alt mode, and hide.

When the white cat had come bounding in and jumped into his deck, he shut it quick and held still.

“In a abandoned gas station X3! Hiding from the bad guyz!” Ravage added to his Yatter feed for two points. 

“Ravage! What are you doing!? You’re going to get us discovered!”

“Don’t worry! I have Sideswipe blocked on Yatter, he can’t see my updates!” Ravage assured with confidence, shaking in his port to reassure his Boss. Soundwaved listened and sensed as Sideswipe stomped around outside, swearing and shouting for Soundwave to show himself.

The world went eerily still, until the leaking roof was torn away to reveal Sideswipe’s grinning face. “Found ya!”

Soundwave transformed to jump away from his grasp, exchanging blows that took down the rest of the building as he savagely fought.

“Uh Boss? I kinda forgot to block Sunsteaker.” Was Ravage’s only reply as Soundwave kicked the lamborghini in the leg, comming Starscream and his Trine for aid as he began to run down the craggled road. Skywarp commed that he was teleporting their way, and Soundwave couldn’t resist the whoop of joy as the jet popped into existence behind him, slamming into the knight’s frame and crackling them both far away from the evil autobot. 

Meeting back up at the makeshift temporary headquarters, Soundwave attempted to both recover control of his frame and scold Ravage for his Yatter-addiction. The Autobots were pure evil, and even with the move from Cybertron to Earth, nothing could seem to stop them. Soundwave focused on contacting the twins, checking on their mission status and wishing they would hurry up and be back with him.

Megatron noticed the worry that marked his frame, attempting to give comfort to the carrier when Rumble and Frenzy didn’t respond. Oftentimes comms needed to be off for stealth, but it never helped Sir Soundwave’s problems, especially considering how unhinged Optimus Prime was. He didn’t want to think about what he had seen done to the different prisoners.

\----

Sunstreaker was on high alert after Sideswipe told him the stupid Decepticon carrier seemed to be down two mechs. This Autobot base was the only one with enough intelligence to risk getting caught, and hadn’t been fully locked down after severe damage from the last battle. 

He was so focused on searching for the two minicons he nearly missed when they attempted to sneak past him, one balanced on the other’s shoulders using a thermal blanket to seem like a mech who hadn’t had their morning energon yet.

At two in the afternoon.

It would honestly be amusing, if it didn’t make Sunstreaker itchy to get their energon smeared on his paint as he pulled it from their miserables frames. Stalking up behind them, he stepped on the trailing edge of the blanket and watched as it slipped away, the two mechs not noticing until he cleared his throat.

When Rumble, or Frenzy, or whichever one was playing the legs realized it; their jump of surprise threw them off balance and sent them tumbling to the floor. Scrambling up, the small mechs dodged Sunstreaker’s grabbing hands and sprinted past his legs to run down the hall. A door had been left ajar, and they ducked in.

Sunstreaker cackled as he neared. The foolish mechs had gone into his quarters. Slamming the door shut behind him, he looked at the trash strewn about the place. It was a small room, it should be easy to see two Cybertronians among the sea of garbage. 

Except for the fact they were apparently better at hiding than they were as disguising. Cursing, Sunstreaker attempted intimidation. “Come out, come out little mechs! You’re on my turf, and you’re wanted Decepticon scum. Now come out quietly and I promise I’ll make your deaths quick!”

A rustling of paper had his attention, and the lamborghini dived for it, expecting to come up holding a minicon. Instead, he was a holding a wriggly earth mouse. Dropping it in disgust, he didn’t notice a spare wire hidden in the garbage of his room was being pulled taut behind his pedes. 

A step back caught his ankle joint, throwing him off balance as his head slammed into the auto-release button on the door, the weight of his frame knocking it clear off it’s track. Looking to one another, then the fallen mech, Rumble and Frenzy sprinted out of the room, moving as fast as they could to leave the base and get themselves home to the safety of their carrier and the calmness of their fellow Decepticons.

Soundwave scooped the two up in his arms when they had finally made their way back to base, cuddling them close as the twins turned to their alt mode. Gently placing them inside his chest, he shut the glass and pat it, ember giving warm and happy vibes to his cassettes that they responded to in kind. Caring for the cassetticons in the middle of a war took its toll on Soundwave, but being able to hold them close made it all seem okay.


	3. Prompt 3!

Megatron didn’t sleep well, not with everything that was happening. First his execution had been stayed, now he was Captain of an entire spaceship eating slag at every meal. The levels of irony were giving even his poet’s spark a headache as he attempted to deal with the crew and their shenanigans. This time, it had involved a roving horde of nanobots that had taken hours to stomp out as they attempted to suck the energon out their cables.

By the time he’d slunk into his hab, cup of filthy Fool’s Energon piping hot in his hands, he was dead on his feet. Setting the cup down on the nightstand and throwing the heating tarp towards the end of the berth, he hopped up. His frame had barely settled before Ravage was appearing from wherever he’d disappeared to, hopping up with a purr in his engine as his paws hit Megatron’s chest plating.

Noting how the former warlord was already halfway to recharge, Ravage fetched the forgotten thermal tarp and dragged it up, tucking it around the gray frame as best he could. Turning around on Megatron’s broad chest, the feline-former curled up to sleep, tail flicking slightly as he felt a heavy, worn hand settle on his back.

Megatron was one of the few mecha besides Soundwave and the Cassettes Ravage found himself able to tolerate. While the war had taken its toll on them all, including the mech below, Ravage found himself able to look past some of the the things Megatron had done. A lot of the crew had been unable to, considering the constant taunts, jeers, and rumors that surrounded the mech like a cloak.

Ravage had followed the Decepticons because he’d believed in the cause, and the mech who seemed to embody that cause like an avatar of Unicron.  The Decepticons weren’t perfect, but Ravage personally held no regrets for the past four million years.

\----

As time dragged on, Ravage noticed some of the changes in Megatron. While his frame weakened from the slag he had to drink, the mech seemed to grow clearer mentally. Glimpses of how the mech was before the war had hardened him were poking through, small peeks of what was running through the mech’s processor showing in his speech and frame. 

When Ravage had been able to take glances at the poetry filling the datapads Megatron was starting to hoard in his subspace and room, he’d been surprised at some of the muses. Most were about the energy of the mechs on the ship, healing, and attempting to deal with the daily headaches of the crew.

The mech wasn’t so on edge. While the usual antics left him dented or covered in paint more often than not, Megatron didn’t worry as much over whether or not someone was going to try and put a bullet in his spark. He’d even started, for better or for worse, making friends with some of the more tolerable members of the crew. Whether it be grumbling alongside Magnus over one of Rodimus’ hare-brained schemes or discussing the Dead Universe with Cyclonus, Megatron was forming connections with those around him in a way he hadn’t had a chance to since the mines.

And it made Ravage both worried and hopeful for the future.

\----

All the attacks on the Lost Light had started to become a common pattern. It seemed the small ship was a magnet for a tragedy after a disaster after a mishap. No person on the crew was coming out the other end unscathed, and yet the general atmosphere of the different meeting rooms never tended to change, even as faces disappeared and new ones showed up in the crowds. Losses were mourned quietly at slow times at Swerve’s, and Ravage had easily heard mechs crying in their berths at night.

Yet no one seemed to be willing to let the tragedies bring them down. Even if some of the poetry in Megatron’s works focused on the losses and what unique talents and personalities had been sent back to the Well of Allsparks.

They had all grown used to loss from the war. It seemed no Cybertronian knew less than ten others who had been victims of the ceaseless battles, raids, and campaigns. At times where Ravage watched the mechs carry on with life, drinking and fighting and joking and singing, it made him ponder on his role in both the war, and this tattered universe that lay at its end.

\----

Ravage had never been a fan of Tarn or Overlord. Dealing with either had always been a processor ache, and dealing with both in a short amount of time was making him feel as if he needed to see Ratchet to get pain blockers. Tarn had always been a dangerous fanatic, that Ravage and Megatron agreed upon. Overlord had been a literal loose canon, and when a mech needed a killswitch to be kept from laying waste to the universe, Ravage wasn’t a fan.

He’d been lucky enough to survive both encounters, while others on the boat had not had his good fortune. Some had merely lost limbs, others had been extinguished. Megatron had become more careful about leaving his poetry lying around, but when Ravage could sneak a peek he noted how Megatron kept a list of the dead on a datapad now, with a many details for each member as the silver mech could remember. 

All this was why Ravage attempted to seek out and be near Megatron day in and day out. The mech needed stability on a ship where there was little to be found, and Ravage needed to make sure he wasn’t alone. Solitude did no mech good.

Being there to make sure Megatron was recharging was one of the few ways to easily provide physical comfort, and it helped him know not all hope was lost.

Maybe out of this war, a new symbol of hope would arise again. Not Autobot, nor Decepticon, maybe something in-between or neither category. It seemed to be the only hope any Cybertronian had left these days. 


End file.
